Well, my brother lost custody of his daughter. It hasn't even been court-ordered yet, but it's basically over. I'm frustrated on many levels. It is an internal struggle between my knowledge of abusive situations versus my emotions about my brother and his marriage. It's very hard for me to talk about this because I feel like people talk down to me every time I try. I DO feel like she is getting away with a lot of lies. I also feel like my brother isn't making the right decisions about what the court needs to know about his marriage. I feel like the court wouldn't care anyway. Let's break down some of these FEELINGS:
1. On one hand, on the hand connected to my head, I know that in a domestic violence situation, most of the surrounding family/friends never know about the abuse. I KNOW that. I know the laws that are protecting my SIL are in place for a reason, to protect women (people) from abusive situations, and that everything my family thinks she's "getting away with," such as being given emergency government housing, a free lawyer, and "all of her lies just believed without proof" is necessary, and I would want all of those things provided for me if I ever found myself escaping an abusive relationship. I know that it looks like I am only siding with my brother because he's my brother and that it looks like I am one of those naive, blind, or angry family members.
2. On this same hand, I KNOW my brother isn't a peach to live with. He has a quick tongue. He cusses, he makes inappropriate comments, he yells and calls people stupid. I know all of that is verbal abuse. I know he's difficult and a bit self-centered. I know he has punched walls and went through a period of cutting himself. I know it was probably awful to live in a house where at any moment he might start yelling. I know that verbal abuse is just as debilitating as physical abuse.
3. On this same hand, I KNOW that the court and the officers of the court are treating this case like they would any other divorce, and that they can only take what they see and make decisions from that. Right now my SIL has a two-bedroom apartment that she has kept clean, where she cooks and has a babysitter and appears to have bettered herself. My brother lives with his mommy and, at the time the court-appointed lawyer for my niece came to visit him, had all of his belongings shoved into a tiny bedroom because he had to move quickly. It was a mess and looked trashy. Many people lived with us, which was pointed out in detail in the court documents, and the house in general was disorganized and cluttered. We have since moved, but still my brother lives with his mommy and doesn't have a separate bedroom for my niece. They have separate beds, but share a bedroom when she comes. At this time, it appears that my SIL will be providing the "better life" for my niece.
4. On this same hand, I KNOW the things my mother and brother told my niece's lawyer were mistakes, and that they came across sounding vindictive, because instead of talking about the living situation my SIL created while they were married, my brother instead said things like, "She turned lesbian on me," and "She's obsessed with our daughter," and my mother said things like, "She's crazy," and "She's jealous of my relationship with her daughter." They didn't talk about the frustration of my SIL refusing to get a job for years, or how her children ganged up on my brother and other members of our family to tell him what a failure he was every day, or how my SIL allowed random people to just move in with them all the time because "it's the Christian thing to do." Nope. And, when my brother told the lawyer that my SIL's ex-husband could tell her how this same thing happened to him, and how his stepson's girlfriend could testify to the frustration of living in that house with my SIL and her children, the lawyer asked if she needed to speak to those two people and my brother said NO. NO! And so it sounds like he made all of those things up because, you know, no, she can't actually go corroborate his story.
5. BUT on the other hand, the hand that holds my heart, I BELIEVE my brother never hit or sexually abused his wife. It isn't in him. Even when we were little, he was all bark and no bite. We would fight, verbally, and when he felt overwhelmed or when he felt angry he would hide in his room and cry. Or he would shout about me being stupid, or spoiled, or what have you. He is an extremely neurotic and sarcastic individual. He also has asthma, tremors, and acid reflux so bad he once tried to change his oil and ended up vomiting horribly in our kitchen sink (due to having to lie on his back for an extended period). When we lived in our old apartment he couldn't walk up the stairs without getting winded. He helped me move my dresser six inches the other day and was winded at the end of that. He only eats once or twice a day because otherwise, he throws up. I find it hard to believe he would be capable of holding someone down.
6. In this same hand, I believe that my SIL DID create frustrating living situations as well. She hopped from job to job, and at one point refused to get a job because she was worried that my niece would stop loving her if she couldn't be home with her every single possible moment (I'm not kidding, she said that). She refused to use her child support for her older children on any bills, food, or other necessities. She said that money was for those children, not for my brother and their child, and so it couldn't be spent on things that benefited them (I'm not kidding, she said that). She said it was the man's duty to get a job that pays well enough so his wife doesn't have to work, and that if he can't be the sole provider he's a failure (I'm not kidding, she said that). She allowed people to move in with them, random people, like some dude from their trailer park and his baby. When we found out he was on a sexual registry, she dismissed it. Dismissed it. And, she is a woman who claims that she and her older children were sexual abused. She said it wasn't Christian of us to judge him (I'm not kidding, she said THAT). Her children would bring home their friends and make two sandwiches for each person. She said she couldn't let people go hungry. She said that if my brother had a better job they would be able to afford feeding anyone without having to worry about feeding themselves.
7. In this same hand, I believe she has manipulated the justice system. She sat in our living room a few weeks ago and admitted she just let the woman from the domestic violence shelter write down whatever she wanted to, and that she just signed the paper without reading it. When we asked her about specific situations she had alleged in the papers, she told us she didn't even know what we were talking about and that she never said any of those things. Look, I KNOW she may have felt uncomfortable and like she was "behind enemy lines" and what have you, but her children have come to us to tell us she did this exact same thing to their father, and to several other men. They told us she has filed charges against every man she has ever known. Furthermore, in the court papers from my niece's lawyer, any specific situation my brother talked about, like the time my SIL "refused to take her daughter to the emergency room" is in quotation marks, is alleged, and is treated like a "he said, she said" situation. Everything that my SIL says is not in quotation marks, and appears as though it's fact. Like the time my brother "slammed his daughter's face into a dog cage door," except not in quotations. That did not happen. My brother was horrified. He wants the court to do a taped interview with my niece, where they ask her about things like that, but the court is refusing. It is frustrating, this feeling like there is nothing my brother could EVER do to prove he was not violent. It does FEEL like my SIL can just make stuff up and it HAS to be taken as the truth. And it also FEELS like she knows it.
8. In this same hand, I believe my brother needed to talk about his own abusive past, and to talk about how he vowed he would never be like his father (we have different fathers). My SIL talked about her abusive past and my niece's lawyer made a long statement to the court about how much she respects my SIL for wanting to learn from her abusive past and get out from under the cycle of violence. Which, on the other hand, the one connected to my head, I KNOW abuse is a pattern and women who have been abused find hard to break free from it. But my brother needed to talk about how it was equally verbally abusive for my SIL and her other children to call him a failure on a daily basis, and for them to tell him they were better off without him, and that they made him feel worthless and, at times, suicidal. When he did talk about those feelings, the ones where he felt suicidal, the lawyer turned that in to a concern for his stability. Also, in the court documents, my brother is, and I'm not kidding, NEVER ALLOWED TO MOVE OUT ON HIS OWN. Because he works third shift, and therefore my niece would be home alone at night. When my SIL goes to work, she has a nice babysitter named Misty, and this is talked about at length in the court documents as being very responsible and good. But...why couldn't my brother get a babysitter, or bring my niece to my parents or me or what have you? It also states in the documents that even though my brother lives with his mother, my niece wouldn't be properly supervised if she went swimming at our apartment's pool because...I don't understand that one. My brother works third shift, he would be there if she went swimming, she's not swimming at night. It's just...it just FEELS like there is nothing my brother could do to defend himself.
So, in conclusion, I'm conflicted. The justice system is in place for a good reason. Abused women need the upper hand because it is often hard to prove abuse, and so the court is only doing what is necessary and right in the name of abused women. I feel like a horrible person because I don't believe my SIL. But the truth is, I don't. I don't know what to do, and I don't know how to help my brother. The court is accusing him of being "fun dad" (that is the actual phrase they use several times in the documents, complete with quotations marks). They say he buys her too many presents when she comes to stay with him. Well, he buys her things, yeah. Is he buying her affection? Maybe. But he's just nervous that, for any reason, his daughter will get used to his absence and fade out of his life. It is a real fear. My SIL has already asked that visitation be reduced from the normal visitation rights to only one day every two weeks and that's it. She doesn't want him to have her ever in the summer or for any holidays. Thankfully, the court ignored that. The lawyer for my niece said she sees no reason why visitation cannot continue as it has. But...I just don't know what to do about my FEELINGS that my SIL is manipulating the system. Can we do anything? Or are we defeated? Will there be a way to appeal this decision and ask for joint custody someday down the line? Should I turn the other cheek and ignore my brother's pain because the system has to work this way? I have been writing this for two and a half hours, since 6:00 in the morning, because I couldn't sleep after reading the lawyer's referendum. But...are all of these FEELINGS just normal when custody is involved? How can I help my brother see that? I've never been on this end...my sisters always got custody, no questions, no fighting, their boyfriends couldn't have cared less about custody. My brother cares. His daughter means everything to him. I don't know what to do.
May 17, 2014
April 30, 2014
The Short, Short Version #9
Week Ending 4/27/2014
Fear: That if my sister-in-law gets full custody of my niece, she will move away to another state (far, far away) and we will never see my niece again. She has told us that is her plan. Her grown children have told us that is her plan, and that she has asked them to move with her, and they have said no. Do you think my brother could understand that the way to get joint custody is to prove why he is a fit parent and not to try to prove why she isn't? NO! Instead, both parties post nasty messages about each other on Facebook (EVIL), text nasty messages to each other, and say nasty things to each other. And due to an argument that ensued last week, my SIL is no longer cooperating with my brother's lawyers. There is a giant "S/He started it!" war going on right now. I just can't get anyone in this family to see that being a grown-up is about ignoring the childish messages and focusing on the child in the middle. But, again, NO! What SHE said was just plain wrong! We must retaliate! I'm afraid the battle has already been lost and we might as well pack my niece's bags.
Disgust: People who make fun of something someone else enjoys. For instance, this week I read a quote from Stephen King about the difference between Harry Potter and Twilight. I've never read Twilight, so I don't know if it really is as vapid as some say. I'm sure it's not that bad. But here's a crazy idea: encourage fans of Twilight to read something else they might enjoy, too. Make the suggestion similar to Twilight but maybe a little more 'respectable.' If all these fans ever hear is how stupid their choice of reading is, they will come to hate reading, or sharing what they've read, for fear of being made fun of again. To me, it is this mindset, the one that can't just accept someone else's happiness, that is killing literature (and the world).
Sadness: How much people don't feel like doing something for me. On my birthday, no one felt like making me a cake/pie/dessert, even though they told me days before they were planning a blackberry pie (my favorite). When it came to dinner, instead of asking me where I would like to order food from because they didn't feel like cooking, my mother came home with crappy fast food and said she thought I loved the food she brought me. No. I hate that food. It has onions and peppers in it and everyone in this family should know I hate onions, particularly. She also had crappy TV dinners and told me I could just pick one of those. Then she complained behind my back (but loud enough for me to hear) about how I'm never pleased with anything she does. Because she never really considers what I would like. The same thing happened last year, by the way, where my favorite dinner was dangled in front of me all day, then when the time came my mother said, "You can just make yourself a sandwich. I'm not in the mood to cook." This year, for the past week, my niece has agreed to cut my really shaggy hair as a birthday present. Every day that I've seen her she isn't in the mood, or she barks at me about being busy (looking on the computer for three hours), or that she feels sick (but fine to eat cheesecake and run around outside smoking cigarettes). If I express FEELINGS, though, I'm a crybaby.
Anger: I have one coffee cup that I love. I love it. It is the perfect size and shape. It has the logo of a bookstore that is no longer in business on it. I cannot replace it. I have asked everyone in this stupid family to use one of the five million other coffee cups we have, particularly if they are taking the cup into the basement. It is a cement floor! Do you think they can do so? I search through the cupboards for it every morning. When it is not there nor in the dishwasher, I KNOW one of them has taken it. I ask them, "Do you know where my bee cup is?" (The logo is a 'bee' for 'Beehive Books.') At first, every freaking time, they pretend not to know the cup to which I am referring. Fuck you. Inevitably, they continue their denial of knowledge of said cup, I choose another cup, and move on, angrily. An hour later, miraculously, the cup appears out of nowhere, dirty, disgusting, and I have to clean it AND put it through the dishwasher before my lips can touch it again.
Happiness: Well, frankly, that we are moving and there is a chance we will be out of this mess of a household soon. The new apartment is about half the size of this one, but who cares? I will be able to do my laundry in my own home! I will be able to buy food and put it in the big refrigerator without fear it will be gone by the next day! I will be able to wash my face at night without having to wait for whomever and their girlfriend to be done showering for over an hour! My bedroom is a mess right now, as you can imagine, as I sort/pack/trash it all. All of our bills will go down. We don't even have a water bill; it is in with the rent. Now, as long as none of them end up on our doorstep a month down the line, life will be a little happier.
Surprise: The amount of trash one human being can produce. As I go through my bedroom packing, I cannot believe the amount of useless crap I have acquired. The university magazine I receive monthly that I never read. A box of crackers that has a handful left in the bottom that I forgot about on the bookshelf. At least five simple tank tops that have stretched out but I've just cycled them to the bottom of the drawer. I need a cleaning routine. But, as we all know, let's be honest, I am a procrastinator. I am messy and disorganized. I am a clutterbug. I am counting SIX random fast food condiment packs on my desk right now. Wow, I'm a pig. (What if I'm not any different than those people downstairs?)
Randomness: The best celebrity baby name I've heard is Moxie Crimefighter Jillette, daughter of Penn Jillette from the Penn & Teller magical duo. I've actually wanted to name a daughter Moxie since I was very young, and I don't mind Crimefighter because it's her middle name. I do, however, hope she goes to school with Jermajesty Jackson, son of Jermaine Jackson, and protects him from the bullies who NO DOUBT spend every day tripping him and saying, "Excuse me, Jermajesty."
Fear: That if my sister-in-law gets full custody of my niece, she will move away to another state (far, far away) and we will never see my niece again. She has told us that is her plan. Her grown children have told us that is her plan, and that she has asked them to move with her, and they have said no. Do you think my brother could understand that the way to get joint custody is to prove why he is a fit parent and not to try to prove why she isn't? NO! Instead, both parties post nasty messages about each other on Facebook (EVIL), text nasty messages to each other, and say nasty things to each other. And due to an argument that ensued last week, my SIL is no longer cooperating with my brother's lawyers. There is a giant "S/He started it!" war going on right now. I just can't get anyone in this family to see that being a grown-up is about ignoring the childish messages and focusing on the child in the middle. But, again, NO! What SHE said was just plain wrong! We must retaliate! I'm afraid the battle has already been lost and we might as well pack my niece's bags.
Disgust: People who make fun of something someone else enjoys. For instance, this week I read a quote from Stephen King about the difference between Harry Potter and Twilight. I've never read Twilight, so I don't know if it really is as vapid as some say. I'm sure it's not that bad. But here's a crazy idea: encourage fans of Twilight to read something else they might enjoy, too. Make the suggestion similar to Twilight but maybe a little more 'respectable.' If all these fans ever hear is how stupid their choice of reading is, they will come to hate reading, or sharing what they've read, for fear of being made fun of again. To me, it is this mindset, the one that can't just accept someone else's happiness, that is killing literature (and the world).
Sadness: How much people don't feel like doing something for me. On my birthday, no one felt like making me a cake/pie/dessert, even though they told me days before they were planning a blackberry pie (my favorite). When it came to dinner, instead of asking me where I would like to order food from because they didn't feel like cooking, my mother came home with crappy fast food and said she thought I loved the food she brought me. No. I hate that food. It has onions and peppers in it and everyone in this family should know I hate onions, particularly. She also had crappy TV dinners and told me I could just pick one of those. Then she complained behind my back (but loud enough for me to hear) about how I'm never pleased with anything she does. Because she never really considers what I would like. The same thing happened last year, by the way, where my favorite dinner was dangled in front of me all day, then when the time came my mother said, "You can just make yourself a sandwich. I'm not in the mood to cook." This year, for the past week, my niece has agreed to cut my really shaggy hair as a birthday present. Every day that I've seen her she isn't in the mood, or she barks at me about being busy (looking on the computer for three hours), or that she feels sick (but fine to eat cheesecake and run around outside smoking cigarettes). If I express FEELINGS, though, I'm a crybaby.
Anger: I have one coffee cup that I love. I love it. It is the perfect size and shape. It has the logo of a bookstore that is no longer in business on it. I cannot replace it. I have asked everyone in this stupid family to use one of the five million other coffee cups we have, particularly if they are taking the cup into the basement. It is a cement floor! Do you think they can do so? I search through the cupboards for it every morning. When it is not there nor in the dishwasher, I KNOW one of them has taken it. I ask them, "Do you know where my bee cup is?" (The logo is a 'bee' for 'Beehive Books.') At first, every freaking time, they pretend not to know the cup to which I am referring. Fuck you. Inevitably, they continue their denial of knowledge of said cup, I choose another cup, and move on, angrily. An hour later, miraculously, the cup appears out of nowhere, dirty, disgusting, and I have to clean it AND put it through the dishwasher before my lips can touch it again.
Happiness: Well, frankly, that we are moving and there is a chance we will be out of this mess of a household soon. The new apartment is about half the size of this one, but who cares? I will be able to do my laundry in my own home! I will be able to buy food and put it in the big refrigerator without fear it will be gone by the next day! I will be able to wash my face at night without having to wait for whomever and their girlfriend to be done showering for over an hour! My bedroom is a mess right now, as you can imagine, as I sort/pack/trash it all. All of our bills will go down. We don't even have a water bill; it is in with the rent. Now, as long as none of them end up on our doorstep a month down the line, life will be a little happier.
Surprise: The amount of trash one human being can produce. As I go through my bedroom packing, I cannot believe the amount of useless crap I have acquired. The university magazine I receive monthly that I never read. A box of crackers that has a handful left in the bottom that I forgot about on the bookshelf. At least five simple tank tops that have stretched out but I've just cycled them to the bottom of the drawer. I need a cleaning routine. But, as we all know, let's be honest, I am a procrastinator. I am messy and disorganized. I am a clutterbug. I am counting SIX random fast food condiment packs on my desk right now. Wow, I'm a pig. (What if I'm not any different than those people downstairs?)
Randomness: The best celebrity baby name I've heard is Moxie Crimefighter Jillette, daughter of Penn Jillette from the Penn & Teller magical duo. I've actually wanted to name a daughter Moxie since I was very young, and I don't mind Crimefighter because it's her middle name. I do, however, hope she goes to school with Jermajesty Jackson, son of Jermaine Jackson, and protects him from the bullies who NO DOUBT spend every day tripping him and saying, "Excuse me, Jermajesty."
April 20, 2014
The Short, Short Version #8
For a lot of missed time.
Fear: That I am going blind. In the morning I see everything as though the room is filled with smoke. It takes about 10 minutes for the haze to clear. I am no longer allowed to drive without my glasses. Without them, I cannot make out the color of a stoplight. A few years ago, the woman at the BMV told me to read the fourth line and I told her I could barely make out the first line, and so restriction 'D' on my license represents my failing sight.
My sister in the wheelchair has lumps in her breast. The doctor has told her they are most likely precancerous cells and that she may already have developed breast cancer. They are doing several biopsies for different lumps. My sister started crying hysterically yesterday, understandably, because she is a grandmother now and why, why now, and what will happen to her children, and when will all of her continuous illnesses end, and why can't it be someone else for a change, and why does she even get up in the morning anymore, and who does she have to talk to, and why isn't there anything that can be done, and how will she survive chemotherapy with her compromised immune system, and why aren't any of us as angry as she is? There are no words.
Disgust: Our landlords have decided not to renew our lease. We must find a new apartment. My parents have told my brother and I (who are just us) that we can come with them for now. They have told my sister, her two sons, and their two girlfriends that they cannot come. They are why we lost our lease. They are five people. They pay nothing. We all know this. They are pissed! It isn't fair! In the meantime, none of them have looked for jobs nor have they actively sought an apartment. For years now, my sister in the wheelchair has told my other sister to apply for government housing because it's a long wait. Other Sister did not do so. Wheels (she calls herself that for all you PC people) pays $120 in rent. And her apartment is nice. Other Sister refused because it was beneath her to be on Welfare. Beneath her.
I cannot just jump in. To anything. If someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch with them in an hour, I will say no. An hour is not enough notice for me to change my routine of...doing nothing. I also cannot jump into a project. I wanted to start a quote journal. But I could not use one of the many, many journals I had. No, this one is for thoughts and feelings. This one is for reading notes. This one is a bibliography. This one is a 'random titles for stories' journal. I also cannot get up in the morning if it is 6:57 or 7:02. It must end in a 0 or a 5. It is limiting, each her own OCD, and disturbing.
Sadness: The cat. The cat is gone. Sometimes I come out of the shower and expect him to be lying on my clean clothes. But he is not there. I gave my mom a flash drive to transfer pictures from her computer and when she had them developed, she noticed I had pictures on it, too. So she developed them. She was really excited because one of them was a picture of me with the cat on my lap. Except it wasn't the cat. It was Cat Lady's cat. And that made both me and my mom sad. We yell at people about leaving the front door open, but there's no longer any reason; there's no cat trying to escape.
The man I'm in love with is married. I see him about twice a week, but not like that. It's a business relationship, strictly. I am awkward and geeky and he knows I'm in love with him (someone let it slip). He talks to me about his guitar and his pets and I talk to him about how Queen Elizabeth was once a truck driver. He is super handsome and brilliant. And taken.
Anger: A girl at work, who only works (on average) two days a week, has taken to pointing out when her statistics are better than someone else's. Especially if that other person is in management. Now look, I don't need to be the best. I'm not and never will be. It isn't that she congratulates herself or expresses relief that she has performed as expected. She will say, "Oh, look, my stats are way higher than yours. It seems like mine are always better than yours." At first we thought it was because she felt the need to compete with the manager she could have replaced if said manager had left earlier this year. But it has begun to leak to everyone. We try to throw it back at her whenever we're better than she is, but she has some magical ability to sell with minimal effort. We run up and down for people and they buy one shirt. She stands at the desk and her customers bring her twenty items they don't need to try on. It's driving us nuts.
I suffer from acne. Bad acne. I have gotten it under control recently but occasionally I still have breakouts and when I do, they are extensive and painful. Right now the weather is nice enough at times to be wearing sleeveless shirts. My back is riddled with bumps and scars. Sometimes it is covered in Band-Aids. When I try to talk to someone about being self-conscious, they try to show me the little bump they have on one of their shoulders, or the little, tiny blackhead they have on their nose, or the little, insignificant red mark they have that could turn into a pimple any day. It is like when a woman who is a size 20 talks to me about her muffin top. I have muffin top too, but I don't point that out to her. Because hers is a real problem, and I am a size 5, and while it is the one area of my body I consider 'fat,' I will not point out my muffin top to her. It is not the same. It will not make her feel better about herself. I have acne. You have a pimple. I have scars. You have a rash. I have a problem. You have an inconvenience. Please don't belittle my pain.
Happiness: I went on a trip to Seattle for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Conference. I went by myself! I had a nice hotel room to myself! My time revolved around my priorities and schedule! I went to some useless seminars! I made connections with an awesome book press! I walked around the big city! I spent over 40 hours in the airport or on a plane between my two flight days! I saw Frozen and Thor: The Dark World on the planes! When it said it was 35 degrees, it was actually 35 degrees! I visited the Space Needle! I didn't really have the money for this trip but it was a kind of 'now or never' moment in time. I'm glad I did it.
My niece had a baby girl! She is adorable. She has the roundest head ever on a child born into this world. Other people comment on the roundness of said child's head. She sleeps a lot. We try to take pictures of her with her eyes open, but she sleeps on, then we look away and she opens her eyes. Just as we notice and get ready for a picture, she closes them again. We tickle her and call her name and are extremely annoying, but she is persistent. It is a frustrating game of peek-a-boo. But it is also very cute.
Surprise: That there are people who consider leggings inappropriate. Maybe others feel they reveal too much of a girl's curves, or maybe there are girls who wear them too tight and create camel toe, or maybe some are a little too see-through, but if they are thicker or black or the only thing wrong is they frame a girl's butt and thighs and leave little to the imagination, I counter with the miniskirt. I recently read a fashion book where the author talked about what a revolution the miniskirt was for sexuality, but I have also read this person's disdain for leggings as inappropriate (as pants themselves). I just don't get it. To me, it's a clothing item that fits some bodies but not others, looks fine in some colors/patterns but not others, and is totally appropriate in some situations but not others.
That I enjoy having a budget. Because I have a new car payment, I have to pinch pennies a lot more than I previously have. I actually like putting change in a piggy bank. I like transferring my tiny amounts to my savings account whenever possible. I like seeing what my grown-up bills are and preparing for the month ahead. I think it is good for me to have limits. It's true that you enjoy things you feel you earn more than things that are free.
Randomness: At work, when we have a damaged item, we have to send a report to the home office. One of the blanks we have to fill in is "Country Description." What they mean is the country of origin, where the garment was made. I have taken to filling in this category with random facts about the country in question. For instance, "The guillotine was last used in Vietnam in 1979." I imagine somewhere, someone with the boring job of collecting/analyzing these reports will notice, chuckle, and wait for the next tiny ray of sunshiny knowledge to come randomly each day.
If you want me to eat WHATEVER you cook, put it in a tortilla. Call it 'Liver Pate Soft Tacos with Onion Relish' or 'Bratwurst Balls Burritos with Yellow Mustard Drizzle.' No schizzle, I will clap and be merry.
Fear: That I am going blind. In the morning I see everything as though the room is filled with smoke. It takes about 10 minutes for the haze to clear. I am no longer allowed to drive without my glasses. Without them, I cannot make out the color of a stoplight. A few years ago, the woman at the BMV told me to read the fourth line and I told her I could barely make out the first line, and so restriction 'D' on my license represents my failing sight.
My sister in the wheelchair has lumps in her breast. The doctor has told her they are most likely precancerous cells and that she may already have developed breast cancer. They are doing several biopsies for different lumps. My sister started crying hysterically yesterday, understandably, because she is a grandmother now and why, why now, and what will happen to her children, and when will all of her continuous illnesses end, and why can't it be someone else for a change, and why does she even get up in the morning anymore, and who does she have to talk to, and why isn't there anything that can be done, and how will she survive chemotherapy with her compromised immune system, and why aren't any of us as angry as she is? There are no words.
Disgust: Our landlords have decided not to renew our lease. We must find a new apartment. My parents have told my brother and I (who are just us) that we can come with them for now. They have told my sister, her two sons, and their two girlfriends that they cannot come. They are why we lost our lease. They are five people. They pay nothing. We all know this. They are pissed! It isn't fair! In the meantime, none of them have looked for jobs nor have they actively sought an apartment. For years now, my sister in the wheelchair has told my other sister to apply for government housing because it's a long wait. Other Sister did not do so. Wheels (she calls herself that for all you PC people) pays $120 in rent. And her apartment is nice. Other Sister refused because it was beneath her to be on Welfare. Beneath her.
I cannot just jump in. To anything. If someone asks me if I want to go out to lunch with them in an hour, I will say no. An hour is not enough notice for me to change my routine of...doing nothing. I also cannot jump into a project. I wanted to start a quote journal. But I could not use one of the many, many journals I had. No, this one is for thoughts and feelings. This one is for reading notes. This one is a bibliography. This one is a 'random titles for stories' journal. I also cannot get up in the morning if it is 6:57 or 7:02. It must end in a 0 or a 5. It is limiting, each her own OCD, and disturbing.
Sadness: The cat. The cat is gone. Sometimes I come out of the shower and expect him to be lying on my clean clothes. But he is not there. I gave my mom a flash drive to transfer pictures from her computer and when she had them developed, she noticed I had pictures on it, too. So she developed them. She was really excited because one of them was a picture of me with the cat on my lap. Except it wasn't the cat. It was Cat Lady's cat. And that made both me and my mom sad. We yell at people about leaving the front door open, but there's no longer any reason; there's no cat trying to escape.
The man I'm in love with is married. I see him about twice a week, but not like that. It's a business relationship, strictly. I am awkward and geeky and he knows I'm in love with him (someone let it slip). He talks to me about his guitar and his pets and I talk to him about how Queen Elizabeth was once a truck driver. He is super handsome and brilliant. And taken.
Anger: A girl at work, who only works (on average) two days a week, has taken to pointing out when her statistics are better than someone else's. Especially if that other person is in management. Now look, I don't need to be the best. I'm not and never will be. It isn't that she congratulates herself or expresses relief that she has performed as expected. She will say, "Oh, look, my stats are way higher than yours. It seems like mine are always better than yours." At first we thought it was because she felt the need to compete with the manager she could have replaced if said manager had left earlier this year. But it has begun to leak to everyone. We try to throw it back at her whenever we're better than she is, but she has some magical ability to sell with minimal effort. We run up and down for people and they buy one shirt. She stands at the desk and her customers bring her twenty items they don't need to try on. It's driving us nuts.
I suffer from acne. Bad acne. I have gotten it under control recently but occasionally I still have breakouts and when I do, they are extensive and painful. Right now the weather is nice enough at times to be wearing sleeveless shirts. My back is riddled with bumps and scars. Sometimes it is covered in Band-Aids. When I try to talk to someone about being self-conscious, they try to show me the little bump they have on one of their shoulders, or the little, tiny blackhead they have on their nose, or the little, insignificant red mark they have that could turn into a pimple any day. It is like when a woman who is a size 20 talks to me about her muffin top. I have muffin top too, but I don't point that out to her. Because hers is a real problem, and I am a size 5, and while it is the one area of my body I consider 'fat,' I will not point out my
Happiness: I went on a trip to Seattle for the AWP (Association of Writers and Writing Programs) Conference. I went by myself! I had a nice hotel room to myself! My time revolved around my priorities and schedule! I went to some useless seminars! I made connections with an awesome book press! I walked around the big city! I spent over 40 hours in the airport or on a plane between my two flight days! I saw Frozen and Thor: The Dark World on the planes! When it said it was 35 degrees, it was actually 35 degrees! I visited the Space Needle! I didn't really have the money for this trip but it was a kind of 'now or never' moment in time. I'm glad I did it.
My niece had a baby girl! She is adorable. She has the roundest head ever on a child born into this world. Other people comment on the roundness of said child's head. She sleeps a lot. We try to take pictures of her with her eyes open, but she sleeps on, then we look away and she opens her eyes. Just as we notice and get ready for a picture, she closes them again. We tickle her and call her name and are extremely annoying, but she is persistent. It is a frustrating game of peek-a-boo. But it is also very cute.
Surprise: That there are people who consider leggings inappropriate. Maybe others feel they reveal too much of a girl's curves, or maybe there are girls who wear them too tight and create camel toe, or maybe some are a little too see-through, but if they are thicker or black or the only thing wrong is they frame a girl's butt and thighs and leave little to the imagination, I counter with the miniskirt. I recently read a fashion book where the author talked about what a revolution the miniskirt was for sexuality, but I have also read this person's disdain for leggings as inappropriate (as pants themselves). I just don't get it. To me, it's a clothing item that fits some bodies but not others, looks fine in some colors/patterns but not others, and is totally appropriate in some situations but not others.
That I enjoy having a budget. Because I have a new car payment, I have to pinch pennies a lot more than I previously have. I actually like putting change in a piggy bank. I like transferring my tiny amounts to my savings account whenever possible. I like seeing what my grown-up bills are and preparing for the month ahead. I think it is good for me to have limits. It's true that you enjoy things you feel you earn more than things that are free.
Randomness: At work, when we have a damaged item, we have to send a report to the home office. One of the blanks we have to fill in is "Country Description." What they mean is the country of origin, where the garment was made. I have taken to filling in this category with random facts about the country in question. For instance, "The guillotine was last used in Vietnam in 1979." I imagine somewhere, someone with the boring job of collecting/analyzing these reports will notice, chuckle, and wait for the next tiny ray of sunshiny knowledge to come randomly each day.
If you want me to eat WHATEVER you cook, put it in a tortilla. Call it 'Liver Pate Soft Tacos with Onion Relish' or 'Bratwurst Balls Burritos with Yellow Mustard Drizzle.' No schizzle, I will clap and be merry.
April 17, 2014
Gabriel Garcia Marquez
I am mourning the death of one of the greatest authors in the history of literature. Gabriel Garcia Marquez wrote my favorite short story, Light Is Like Water. It is only five pages long, but it is a masterpiece. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in 1982. I aspire to be as brilliant at weaving a narrative as he was. Rest in Peace.
April 15, 2014
And Also...
I wanted to add: I tried to say that when people expressed their negative opinion respectfully, that was fine. I didn't go into too much depth about that, and I'm tempted, soooooo tempted, to go back to make sure people understand that I was calling out the nastiness, not the disappointment, not the negative feelings. But I won't go back. Or should I? No, there's probably already ten new posts that will just make me angry. Repeat: It's not worth it. It's not worth it.
Strange Tempers
Got into a fight on Facebook. On a TV show's page. Why? Why do I feel the need to fight with strangers over stupid things? And I've decided to just not go back to see what else has been posted afterward, because it will just entice me to waste more precious time fighting with strangers. I got into this fight because people wanted bloodshed over a TV show. It was ridiculous. One particular lady was posting over and over and over, and I was finally fed up with her. Within one minute of my post, she responded, and so I responded to her, calling her out on forcing her opinion on everyone over and over. I can just see the next few posts now, stating that I had more than one post on there as well. And I went against the majority and so I'm going to get slaughtered. Whatever. I made it clear I don't live on Facebook (like this lady apparently does).
I feel like there is nowhere to go anymore to enjoy anything. There is nowhere to go where people like a TV show, singer, celebrity, etc. I wish that forums would divide their threads into "likes" and "dislikes" so that if you like a show, you can go into that thread and be happy, and if you don't like a show, you can go into that thread and rant. I don't like them mixed, because it invites these kinds of wars. I don't even care one iota about Justin Bieber, but I don't understand the people who stalk his videos just to talk about how stupid or evil he is. Get a life. Don't go on the Bieber webpage just to tell him off.
That's one of the things I hate about Facebook. I hate that people can come on and just post mean things and hide behind their "opinion." They call people out left and right. But DEAR LORD if you call them out. Or I fear posting something I enjoy on there, because I get made fun of enough for being immature or weird. I also don't want to deal with the people who would see something I post, or link to, and feel they have to tell me why they hate it. I don't care. Take your hate somewhere else.
But why did I feel the need to go on that TV show's page, LOG IN to Facebook, and yell at people? Why? Why couldn't I just say "I love this show" and move the fuck on? I totally attacked people. I think I felt the need to show them what they were doing to the person they were attacking on the show (it's a reality show). Calling for this person to never be on the show again (a person who has been on this show for ten years). Admitting that they have always loved this person until this ONE MOMENT and now they never want to see this person on TV again. Really? Ridiculous. Turn the channel. Get over it. I felt the NEED to say that. And now I will be attacked and it's a vicious cycle. An inescapable cycle anymore.
I feel like there is nowhere to go anymore to enjoy anything. There is nowhere to go where people like a TV show, singer, celebrity, etc. I wish that forums would divide their threads into "likes" and "dislikes" so that if you like a show, you can go into that thread and be happy, and if you don't like a show, you can go into that thread and rant. I don't like them mixed, because it invites these kinds of wars. I don't even care one iota about Justin Bieber, but I don't understand the people who stalk his videos just to talk about how stupid or evil he is. Get a life. Don't go on the Bieber webpage just to tell him off.
That's one of the things I hate about Facebook. I hate that people can come on and just post mean things and hide behind their "opinion." They call people out left and right. But DEAR LORD if you call them out. Or I fear posting something I enjoy on there, because I get made fun of enough for being immature or weird. I also don't want to deal with the people who would see something I post, or link to, and feel they have to tell me why they hate it. I don't care. Take your hate somewhere else.
But why did I feel the need to go on that TV show's page, LOG IN to Facebook, and yell at people? Why? Why couldn't I just say "I love this show" and move the fuck on? I totally attacked people. I think I felt the need to show them what they were doing to the person they were attacking on the show (it's a reality show). Calling for this person to never be on the show again (a person who has been on this show for ten years). Admitting that they have always loved this person until this ONE MOMENT and now they never want to see this person on TV again. Really? Ridiculous. Turn the channel. Get over it. I felt the NEED to say that. And now I will be attacked and it's a vicious cycle. An inescapable cycle anymore.
January 16, 2014
The Short, Short Version #7
Ending the year 2013:
Fear: My father wants to apply for a loan for a house through the Veteran's Association. He is convinced they will give him a $200,000 loan. Of course, no they won't, but that's beside the point. He keeps talking about how he wants to put the house in my name, so that if anything happens I will have a house. He talks about how he, my mother, and I will all live together and be happy. The fear comes from the fact that I don't want to live with my parents forever. But the last time I told him this, he started crying. We were in the car together and I was talking about saving up to find an apartment, and when I looked over at him he was wiping tears away from his face. He gets even more emotional now over little things. I will have to tell him. But how is he going to take it?
Disgust: On Christmas Eve, we opened presents as my youngest niece was not going to be with us for long enough on Christmas Day for the whole family to be together. It was fine. At somewhere around 4:00 p.m. my sister got a phone call from her boyfriend. They had to see each other because a day apart was JUST TOO MUCH. These are 30- and 40-year-olds. Anyway, the disgust comes from the fact that as soon as he came in, NO ONE ELSE MATTERED. Apparently, that's how it goes. My pregnant niece became upset, because this was supposed to be our family time. But my sister didn't care. She actually shoved my youngest niece off of her lap because she was in the boyfriend's way. Boyfriend and Sister sat cuddling on the couch, making lovey-dovey noises and other displays. When Boyfriend went to the bathroom, Sister Bear asked me if I thought he was cute, and when I said, "Sure," she got PISSED, and said, "You don't think he's cute. Fine." And thus the entire day was ruined.
Sadness: My father just wants to be part of it all again. When my mother plays games on Facebook, usually things like guessing a celebrity, song, or movie, and she gets stuck, he will search all over the internet trying to find the answer, usually going off of something she said that isn't even related to what she's trying to figure out. He is clearly sad when he thinks he's found her answer and she's either moved on or the clue he was using was completely irrelevant.
Anger: Fucking Janet got some chickens and she was supplying us with farm fresh eggs for $2 a carton. That was very fair. Well, not too long ago, while she was out to dinner with her husband, their dogs got into the chicken coop and killed about half their chickens. That was sad, so that's not the 'anger' part. So, Fucking Janet started going down the road to a neighbor's farm and asking him to supply us eggs in the mean time. Fine, or so we thought. They are NOT as good as Fucking Janet's eggs. They are, in fact, worse than store-bought eggs. That is not the 'anger' part. We (meaning my boss and I) approached Fucking Janet and told her that we would wait for her eggs from now on, as she had just gotten new chickens but they weren't producing right now. We said, "When you have enough for a carton to spare, we'll take turns buying your eggs." Fucking Janet got very upset at this. That is the 'anger' part. Not the fact that she was upset, but the fact that she was upset when we were telling her that her eggs were superior and that we were willing to wait for quality eggs. She just kept telling us we were being ridiculous. That we needed to get over it. And it's like, well, we don't have to buy eggs from him. Or YOU, Fucking Janet.
Happiness: Music. Music...makes the people...come together. / Music...makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel. A lot of my 'happiness' entries revolve around it. So it should come as no surprise that my favorite gift this Christmas was Garth Brooks's Blame It All On My Roots boxed set. I actually sat hugging it after I was done unwrapping my other presents. When I first heard about it, and some of the songs on it, I began hearing those songs in my head but in Garth's voice. Maggie May ceased to be sung by Rod Stewart. The whole set is, as could be predicted, wonderful and brilliant and exciting. Too bad Garth made his stupid deal with Walmart. I even suspect he will not license his songs to mix radio stations at all. That...is so disappointing.
Surprise: I'm one of those people. Who says, "When I was your age..." or, "Kids these days..." Where is that line? Is it an age we reach? Is it a technological advancement that puts distance between 'us' and 'them?' Is it because I constantly see five-year-olds playing with their iPhones while their parents blissfully ignore them? A former teenage employee of ours used to pretend to be my daughter because it could be true. Another teenage employee said, "Since computers weren't invented until, like, the '90s..." I just glared at her and shouted, "COMPUTERS WHERE INVENTED IN, LIKE, THE 1800s!" One of my first memories is ET at the drive-in. What are the comparable memories for the kids today? Anyway, technology marches on, and since I used to be someone who felt I was on the cutting edge of it (video game systems, etc.), it surprises me when I feel so left out, or insulted, or nostalgic, or old.
Randomness: I can't stand to watch HDTV. It...isn't natural. I'll be watching a TV show with my mom and sister, and I often have to turn away because I feel nauseated. They think I'm crazy. I'll say, "It moves like a soap opera." And they just stare at me. But I found out why! And I was right. Because soap operas use 48 frames per second, while TV shows before HDTV used only 24. Now, HDTV runs at a much higher frame rate than old TV shows (that's what the 1080p, 360p, etc. means on Youtube videos). It reminds me of when Tom and Jerry was directed by Gene Deitch and the animation was all fast, choppy, and weird. Those old cartoons were the stuff of nightmares.
Fear: My father wants to apply for a loan for a house through the Veteran's Association. He is convinced they will give him a $200,000 loan. Of course, no they won't, but that's beside the point. He keeps talking about how he wants to put the house in my name, so that if anything happens I will have a house. He talks about how he, my mother, and I will all live together and be happy. The fear comes from the fact that I don't want to live with my parents forever. But the last time I told him this, he started crying. We were in the car together and I was talking about saving up to find an apartment, and when I looked over at him he was wiping tears away from his face. He gets even more emotional now over little things. I will have to tell him. But how is he going to take it?
Disgust: On Christmas Eve, we opened presents as my youngest niece was not going to be with us for long enough on Christmas Day for the whole family to be together. It was fine. At somewhere around 4:00 p.m. my sister got a phone call from her boyfriend. They had to see each other because a day apart was JUST TOO MUCH. These are 30- and 40-year-olds. Anyway, the disgust comes from the fact that as soon as he came in, NO ONE ELSE MATTERED. Apparently, that's how it goes. My pregnant niece became upset, because this was supposed to be our family time. But my sister didn't care. She actually shoved my youngest niece off of her lap because she was in the boyfriend's way. Boyfriend and Sister sat cuddling on the couch, making lovey-dovey noises and other displays. When Boyfriend went to the bathroom, Sister Bear asked me if I thought he was cute, and when I said, "Sure," she got PISSED, and said, "You don't think he's cute. Fine." And thus the entire day was ruined.
Sadness: My father just wants to be part of it all again. When my mother plays games on Facebook, usually things like guessing a celebrity, song, or movie, and she gets stuck, he will search all over the internet trying to find the answer, usually going off of something she said that isn't even related to what she's trying to figure out. He is clearly sad when he thinks he's found her answer and she's either moved on or the clue he was using was completely irrelevant.
Anger: Fucking Janet got some chickens and she was supplying us with farm fresh eggs for $2 a carton. That was very fair. Well, not too long ago, while she was out to dinner with her husband, their dogs got into the chicken coop and killed about half their chickens. That was sad, so that's not the 'anger' part. So, Fucking Janet started going down the road to a neighbor's farm and asking him to supply us eggs in the mean time. Fine, or so we thought. They are NOT as good as Fucking Janet's eggs. They are, in fact, worse than store-bought eggs. That is not the 'anger' part. We (meaning my boss and I) approached Fucking Janet and told her that we would wait for her eggs from now on, as she had just gotten new chickens but they weren't producing right now. We said, "When you have enough for a carton to spare, we'll take turns buying your eggs." Fucking Janet got very upset at this. That is the 'anger' part. Not the fact that she was upset, but the fact that she was upset when we were telling her that her eggs were superior and that we were willing to wait for quality eggs. She just kept telling us we were being ridiculous. That we needed to get over it. And it's like, well, we don't have to buy eggs from him. Or YOU, Fucking Janet.
Happiness: Music. Music...makes the people...come together. / Music...makes the bourgeoisie and the rebel. A lot of my 'happiness' entries revolve around it. So it should come as no surprise that my favorite gift this Christmas was Garth Brooks's Blame It All On My Roots boxed set. I actually sat hugging it after I was done unwrapping my other presents. When I first heard about it, and some of the songs on it, I began hearing those songs in my head but in Garth's voice. Maggie May ceased to be sung by Rod Stewart. The whole set is, as could be predicted, wonderful and brilliant and exciting. Too bad Garth made his stupid deal with Walmart. I even suspect he will not license his songs to mix radio stations at all. That...is so disappointing.
Surprise: I'm one of those people. Who says, "When I was your age..." or, "Kids these days..." Where is that line? Is it an age we reach? Is it a technological advancement that puts distance between 'us' and 'them?' Is it because I constantly see five-year-olds playing with their iPhones while their parents blissfully ignore them? A former teenage employee of ours used to pretend to be my daughter because it could be true. Another teenage employee said, "Since computers weren't invented until, like, the '90s..." I just glared at her and shouted, "COMPUTERS WHERE INVENTED IN, LIKE, THE 1800s!" One of my first memories is ET at the drive-in. What are the comparable memories for the kids today? Anyway, technology marches on, and since I used to be someone who felt I was on the cutting edge of it (video game systems, etc.), it surprises me when I feel so left out, or insulted, or nostalgic, or old.
Randomness: I can't stand to watch HDTV. It...isn't natural. I'll be watching a TV show with my mom and sister, and I often have to turn away because I feel nauseated. They think I'm crazy. I'll say, "It moves like a soap opera." And they just stare at me. But I found out why! And I was right. Because soap operas use 48 frames per second, while TV shows before HDTV used only 24. Now, HDTV runs at a much higher frame rate than old TV shows (that's what the 1080p, 360p, etc. means on Youtube videos). It reminds me of when Tom and Jerry was directed by Gene Deitch and the animation was all fast, choppy, and weird. Those old cartoons were the stuff of nightmares.
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